


Spun Glass

by canistakahari



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-04
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:45:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canistakahari/pseuds/canistakahari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bones is sick, and Jim takes care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spun Glass

**Author's Note:**

  * For [affectingly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/affectingly/gifts).



"Bones."  
  
The voice is above him, around him, and McCoy is drifting, everything fever-bright and fragile like spun glass or pulled taffy in the hazy shadow of his mind. Jim's body is comparatively cool against his, solid, lean, and his hands envelope McCoy's face just before Jim's lips - warm, plush - press to both his eyelids, then to his forehead.   
  
" _Bones_ , wake up."  
  
It's the last thing he wants to do, especially since the last time he lifted his head the entire planet spun wildly out of control and he ended up throwing up and then passing out, but Jim's voice is gentle, insistent, and his mouth is very convincing.   
  
"Hey," croaks McCoy, blinking open hot, ruddy eyes and snuffling.   
  
"Hey," beams Jim, kneeling on the mattress in the sunlight. "I made you soup."  
  
"C'mere," mumbles McCoy, beckoning Jim closer. When Jim ducks his straw-coloured head into range of McCoy's mouth, he presses a dry, chaste kiss to Jim's lips, then his cheek. His voice is cracked, crumbling, and he's sure it'll be gone before the day is out. He sighs, rolling his eyes and pointing to his throat, and Jim quirks a grin, leaning over him.  
  
His bare legs slide between McCoy's, and they tangle together on the bed, Jim sprawled over him, McCoy breathing slow and thick. Jim's shoulder is right there, so he touches his lips to it and closes his eyes.   
  
"Soup," says Jim, patting his hip. "It'll make your throat feel better."  
  
McCoy whispers, "If you catch this and lose your voice, it'll all be worth it."  
  
Jim laughs, and claps his palm over McCoy's mouth, then leans in to kiss the back of his own hand.


End file.
